Old Soul
by HugoCogs
Summary: All her life, Aurora Shepard has looked for a certain someone to share her life with, someone with an old soul. When she crosses paths with an Asari Justicar named Samara, will she finally have what she's so hungered for


__"Old Soul"

by HugoCogs (June 2013)

"All her life, Aurora Shepard has looked for a certain someone to share her life with, someone with an old soul. When she crosses paths with an Asari Justicar named Samara, will she finally have what she's so hungered for?"

**Disclaimer: **Characters and world belong to Bioware; I just make them go to embarrassing high school dances.

**A/N: **This one goes out by special request. A month ago, fan named **Brandon66** specifically asked me if I was willing to write a story where Shepard and Samara are in love, with a family. A tough challenge, I thought. Not sure I ever really believed that they would make a believable couple. So I just sort of sat on the idea, not really doing anything with it for a few days. Inspiration, however, came in the extremely odd form of a 7-Up commercial from 1978.

I feel like I probably could have done a better job with this, but...it just felt "right" as something of a minimalist piece. Anyhow, I hope you like it!

* * *

_Another year, another dance at another school. It was a cycle as old as...well...school dances at any rate. Which by 2168 meant centuries._

_The girl sits by herself on one of the chairs clustered by the darkest wall. Not unattractive, quite the opposite, with shoulder length red hair, styled and feathered back, blue eyes, a pale native Irish complexion and slight frame; she was still somewhat tall and gawky, at that awkward age where she was as tall or slightly taller than most of the boys. Dressed in a short black skirt with white plastic belt, matching blouse, and slight heeled shoes. She was a recent transfer student, still having yet to make many friends, and clearly not feeling self-confident enough to try and barge in one of the pre-existing cliques._

_The boy is somewhat on the pudgy side, scrubby brown hair, in a suit jacket and tie. Egged on by some of his friends, he walks over towards the girl, soda in hand, and sits by her. Well, two chairs away from her._

_The silent, awkward minutes stretch on, as the pair exchange shy, furtive glances, each one waiting for the other to break the ice, to make that first move that might lead to so much more. _

_At long last, the pair turn to each other, simultaneously. Neither can remember who asked first, but seconds later, they're up and on their feet. She has a good inch or two on him already. He blanches slightly, despite himself. She quickly resolves the issue by kicking off her shoes, and smiling lightly, taking his hand. They make their way into the dark of the gymnasium, a paltry amount of colorful crepe streamers and balloons decorating the otherwise white and grey utilitarian function room. _

_They embrace softly, and start to dance, giddy smiles and expressions on their faces. A connection has finally been made. Maybe it's not love, maybe it won't last more than a week. But maybe it will be the great love of their lives, and they'll tell their grandkids about the night they first met..._

Fourteen-year old Aurora Shepard, Rory to almost everyone, sits on one of the bleachers, on the other side of the gym; she alone has witnessed the entire scene play out, gunmetal blue-grey eyes devouring every detail as it unfolded. Chin perched on her fist, elbow balanced upon her knee. Black hair cut in a short pixie style, In tight black jeans, shirt, and leather jacket, she sighs softly, envying the boy. While not "out" per se, it's pretty obvious to most of the school in which particular direction her interests lie. And in such a small school for the colony kids, there's been no one else, no one for her.

It wasn't just the fact that she preferred girls that made things so terribly self-limiting for her. She had, for as long back as she could remember, been looking for a very particular something and someone; a look to the eyes, a bearing and demeanor. An aspect to suggest that despite outward appearances, this was someone who thought and felt beyond what their years belied. For want of a better word, she was looking for an old soul. And for a moment, she thought maybe she had seen something like that, in the red head across the room.

Then again, maybe she was just lonely. She had been for a while, the daughter of a single Father who tried his best to be there for her, who had raised her from the day she was born, when her Mother, who had never wanted to have children, left both of them behind. She herself had been a recent transfer, and by that measure, she and the other girl at least had that much in common.

The loneliness however, followed her on through the years. Always searching and never quite finding, never quite making that perfect connection in her life.

That all changed the day Rory Shepard met Justicar Samara.

She wouldn't call it love at first sight. Though not the cynical type, she was far too world-weary to fall in for such romantic treacle, at least not at first. Instead, it was more of a...recognition. A realization, simply from those first few minutes of their initial meeting and discussion that whatever Rory had been looking for, in a woman, in a partner, in a soulmate...all those potential things...were wrapped up so tightly in red leather and armor plating and dedicated to duty and honor, and bound to a Code, harsh and unforgiving.

She would never forget that first time she saw her, interrogating an Eclipse member for information - she would later learn that she was hunting her own daughter. She moved with a liontine grace, glowing with holy righteousness. She slid through the air, gliding effortlessly as she cornered the uncooperative Asari.

She was like some sort of Valkyrie, like a Seraphim, regal form and essence.. Like an embodiment of a universal force, divine and supernatural.

Ilium had been where Samara had taken hold of Rory's fascination. Omega had been where she had taken possession of Rory's heart; a heart that had nearly broken when she bore witness to the Justicar ending a centuries long quest, a quest which could only end in either her own death...or that of her oldest daughter.

Rory...so very desperately wanted to take Samara in her arms, once the mission was finally complete. To tell her that...she understood. Despite the differences in years and experiences, she wanted Samara to know that she could take even but a few moments to find surcease in her embrace. All she had to do was reach out for what Rory was offering.

As time went on, Rory grew to love her dichotomy: Samara was as compassionate as a Mother, but as strict as Jesus - as the line from the old Schwartz musical went - , like a school teacher who would not accept anything less than your absolute best, that she herself knew you were capable of.

She strove for peace, but would not flinch when the situation called for sudden violence. She moved effortlessly, almost carelessly, and yet Rory couldn't help but feel that Samara put a thousand years of experience and life into every word she spoke, every movement she made.

And when Rory couldn't hold what had grown in her heart, the deep and abiding respect, compassion, and yes...love...she finally went to Samara, and poured her heart out.

_Dumb...dumbdumbdumb!_

In retrospect, perhaps she had been too...bold. Forward. Desperate, even?

_Oh God..._

So eager to win Sarama's heart at long last. Rory had never been much of a wordsmith; poetry was far from something she possessed a masterful ken of. She was usually direct, and to the point, as this often got her what she wanted. And she so wanted to make that final connection with her, she wanted to hear that the Asari could love her as well; it didn't matter if that love was not as great or as strong in return...even an unequal love would be satisfying enough.

And despite Rory's best efforts to convince her that they were meant to be together...

_In another time...another life._

She did her best to be strong, to not take the rejection as a personal humiliation visited upon her. That despite the fact that she had held out her heart, like a delicate bird, a precious, crystalline treasure, Samara's refusal had come very...reluctantly.

She nearly succeeded.

It didn't matter, in the grand scheme of things. A day or two spent weeping soft, silent tears in her cabin, mourning for what she so desperately wanted, for what life, it seemed, had deemed that she could not have...and then she was the Shepard everyone needed her to be, once more. The one to lead them through the Omega Relay, and possibly on to their deaths.

A piece of her dared to hope that if they made it back...that perhaps Samara would be more willing to finally come to the end of her journey as a Justicar. To start a new life...another life...

A life with her.

Rory couldn't take the chance of feeling such humiliation a second time though, and instead kept her cards close to her chest. She would learn to move on, and the pain would eventually go away. Learn to delude herself long enough into thinking that she could eventually forget about the incredible force of nature whose path had intertwined with hers for far too brief a time

It was almost a relief then, when the tempestuous winds of fate tore them apart, when Rory was summoned back to Earth to answer for the great and terrible crime at the Alpha Relay, for having paid the toll, in blood that was not hers to give, the sacrifice that forestalling the Reaper invasion demanded.

If nothing else, it gave her very little time to mope. And despite her best efforts, a semblance of normality returned to life. Even when the War finally came, as she ultimately knew it would, so bloody and far more terrible than even Rory herself could have contemplated, she realized that she had finally moved past the most crushing part of her sorrow...that she could learn to draw strength from her time with Samara, and it would make her a better person.

She accepted that it was simply not meant to be.

She accepted it...until Lesuss.

Until she saw her once again, and all those feelings and emotions, the love, the hurt, the desire, the respect, came flooding all back to her at once, taking her breath away.

She'd keep it professional.

Discrete.

Amiable.

She kept it together so well, during the horror of watching Samara lose yet another daughter. Through the waves of Reaper forces that needed to be held back. All up until that moment...

_Oh God...gun! She has a gun...to her...NO!_

Rory reached over, grabbing her hand, holding her back. So angry, so...scared, out of her mind. She couldn't help herself, grabbing Samara by the shoulders, her eyes burning into to the Matriarch's. As if she could somehow force a meld, take all that she couldn't say in outright words, everything she couldn't communicate properly, with a clumsy tongue, and transfer it, directly into her mind.

_You can't...you CAN'T do this. You can't throw your life away! I can live without your love. I can keep fighting the impossible fight, I can keep tilting at windmills, I can keep being the woman everyone expects me, needs me to be. I can do all of this alone, without your love in my life._

_But I can't do any of that if you're dead._

Much later on, as she prepared for the last great push against the Reapers, what would become that terrible, eternal race to the Conduit, she still wondered if Samara had understood. If somehow, through the physical contact, through the look in her eyes...if maybe she had finally gotten through.

She hadn't been able to spend very much time with her on the Citadel, after they left from the monastery. Again, Rory was simply too scared to bring her feelings up with her once again, realizing that they had returned like a flood, but one that was lifting her heart up anew. It felt different this time...calmer. The rough, young edges of fierce desire sanded away into a quiet soft, smooth brilliance.

Rory was ready to die, when she thought that the mission called for it, to make that one final sacrifice of herself. She still didn't understand how she managed to survive the devastation that resulted, when the Crucible was activated. All she remembered was waking up, weeks later on the Citadel, still in Earth orbit.

Samara was there, holding her hand with deep affection and an ocean of gentleness.

She reached over, brushing back a few strands of black hair, and said, calmly, slowly, but with no trace of coolness this time:

"I think perhaps the day for another life...has come at last. I intend to go to Lesuss, and help Falere rebuild. I would...very much like for you to come with me. If you are willing...if you are able."

The soft smile that parted her lips made her look young...innocent...fresh. But at the same time, did nothing to diminish the beauty and elegance that her many years had gifted her.

It was the better part of a year before they finally became intimate...before the meld, the first of many they would share. But it was so very worth it, the time it took for Rory to finally have what she always wanted. To completely surrender herself to Samara's embrace, to pour her heart, soul, and mind into the woman she could now, at long last call lover. Soulmate. Partner. Wife.

They were bonded not long afterwards. And as Samara finally became the mate Aurora had ached her entire life for, Falere became like a true daughter; the strength, dignity and courage that the younger Asari brought to bear as she endured the sharp prod of cruel Fate's design...so much like her Mother, in that regard.

In time, their family grew; perhaps not literally, as Samara's days of bearing daughters were behind her, but as Asari afflicted with the Ardat-Yakshi made their way back to Lesuss to find peace, control, purpose and meaning, they all became to Rory more than victims, more than patients or penitents. They were like daughters, one and all, needing compassion and love, tempered by a strong, and even occasionally strict hand.

In time, Samara allowed herself to love, the flame in her heart burning just as strong and fierce as Rory's did for her. Together they were content; together, they were so very happy.

On their tenth anniversary, Samara presented her with an intricate locket; when opened, a holographic picture of them both, with Falere embraced between the two of them, was displayed. The inscription on the inside read:

_My beloved Aurora,_

_You are the dawn that heralded the end of my old life, and the beginning of my new. I deeply treasure every day that we have together, for what little time I may have left._

_Thank you for waiting for me._

Aurora snuggled in against her mate, and did not let go of her for a whole hour.

She had found her old soul at last.


End file.
